We're All Damaged (It's Okay)
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: George and Seamus are soulmates... but then Fred dies and George loses himself to grief. Dean dies, and Seamus drinks to block out the pain. Will they ever get a happy ending?


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom**

 **Word Count - 4314**

 **Beta'd by the lovely Emily**

 _Written for Gus-Gus, for the Drabble Game… the request was GeorgeSeamus, Mid-war… might've spiralled to being more post war… oops?_

* * *

 **We're All Damaged (It's Okay)**

* * *

It happened immediately when the clock struck a second past midnight. Seamus gasped at the unexpected pain, because nobody had ever said it would hurt. He watched with bated breath as slowly, the name of his soulmate appeared on his wrist in scrolling script.

Unexpected wasn't the word when he realised he knew the name. He'd expected someone he'd never met, someone that he'd have to search out when (if) this war ever ended on favourable terms.

 _If he lived to see the end of it._

"Happy?"

Seamus looked up to see Neville watching him with caution. Seamus' eyes slipped to where a black band covered Neville's own soulmark, and he nodded slowly, shrugging his shoulders.

"I'm… not mad."

Neville raised an eyebrow, curious but not pushy, because Neville was never pushy about soulmarks.

Seamus raised his wrist for Neville to see.

A smile appeared, growing into a grin, and then a chortle left Neville's lips.

"You'll not be bored, that's for sure."

Seamus returned the grin, unable to keep the smile from his face. He looked back at the name. "True."

…

"Seamus, I have something for you," Neville called, as he distributed the food from Aberforth.

Seamus frowned, looking up from the sandwich he was devouring. Neville was holding out a letter, which Seamus accepted, setting it aside while he finished his food. Aberforth was doing his best to feed them, but as their numbers grew, the food was being split in more and more directions and the feeling of being full was starting to become nothing but a memory.

When he was finished, he picked the envelope back up, twirling it in his hands for a moment. He was nervous, because getting mail from Aberforth was very rarely a good thing. News of loved ones deaths were being filtered to them slowly, weeks after the fact, and Seamus' mum was still out there.

Opening the envelope, he pulled the letter out and flipped it open, eyes widening when they immediately moved to the signature before he began reading.

 _Dear Seamus,_

 _So, this feels weird. This is weird, right? I know you from Hogwarts, and yet… I received your name on my wrist on what I assume was your seventeenth birthday and immediately realised that I don't actually know you at all._

 _It's odd, to see your name and know who you are, but not know anything about you._

 _I hope we get a chance to change that. We will._

 _I know you're at Hogwarts, and Abe has been feeding us information as to what's going on there (I hope you're okay and not in as bad a shape as Neville was the last time he visited Abe). So, I'm hoping that this letter finds you safe._

 _I want… I want to know you. I figure (hope) that you want the same thing. But I also don't want to write a letter full of waffle if you_ don't _want that, so… maybe you could write me back?_

 _And tell me what you want?_

 _And maybe tell me about you?_

 _Merlin, this is so awkward. I swear, I'm smoother than this in person. I could sweep you off your feet if I wasn't writing on parchment that was allowing me to just… write all the words without being able to see your response._

 _If you do want to write back, Abe will be able to get the letter to me. Eventually._

 _Yours,_

 _George Weasley_

Seamus read the letter three times, his smile widening with each pass over the writing. George was right, it was _awkward,_ and Seamus was utterly _charmed_ by it.

"Good?" Neville asked as he walked past.

Seamus nodded. "The best."

…

They exchanged a few letters, and in each one, George charmed Seamus further because the man seemed to have an inability to filter himself in writing. Seamus learned that Fred had found and was with his own soulmate. He learned that George was lonely, less so now he had a name and the knowledge that his soulmate was out there waiting for him.

He learned that they were in hiding, but were keeping themselves busy with experiments, making more dangerous versions of their pranks for when the battle finally came.

There was no pretense, because they all knew that a battle would happen eventually.

He learned other things too, like George's favourite colour (red or blue, depending on the day) and his favourite food (chicken strips) and lots of other things that should have been meaningless but that Seamus soaked up because that was his _soulmate._

Seamus wrote back immediately every time he got a letter, and he knew that George was doing the same thing, but with the danger of getting the letters from point A to point B, the waiting between correspondence was excruciatingly long.

It became a nightly ritual for Seamus to reread the letters before bed every night. And if he slept with the letters under his pillow… well, nobody said anything about it.

…

George was there. He was _there_ , and Seamus was in his arms before he'd even had time to fully process that _George was there_.

They hugged tightly, a warmth building in Seamus' chest because he'd dreamed of this moment so many times over the last few months, but none of those dreams could match up to the reality that George was there and he was hugging Seamus and murmuring a greeting in his ear and it felt so _right._

Except they had to fight. Harry had brought the fight home, and it was happening around Seamus even as he set about making the bridge explode, and it was terrifying.

Seamus had half a mind on himself, and half a mind on George, and half a mind on Dean because Dean was here and Dean was alive and that was a lot more than Seamus was expecting if he was honest with himself.

And his mind was being stretched beyond its capabilities and it was just _a lot._

Seamus moved just in time to see the bridge blow from a safe spot, and he took a moment to just breathe before he threw himself into the melee. He had to help and he had to stay alive to see the end.

There was no other option.

…

George was alive. His name was still present on Seamus' wrist, a comfort that Seamus didn't realise he needed until he looked down and saw it. Seamus was done. He had fought and fought and fought, and he didn't have anything left in him, but he forced himself to his feet and pushed himself through the doors of the Great Hall.

He didn't look at the bodies on the floor. He couldn't. He knew who would be there, still and cold and looking like he was sleeping. Seamus had seen him go down, but he couldn't bring himself to look at the body of his best friend.

Dean had survived being on the run, on his own, for months, and now he was dead and Seamus didn't quite know how to handle that so he just… didn't. Heading towards the sea of redheads, Seamus didn't see until it was too late to unsee.

Fred was lying prone on the floor. George was kneeling over him, sobbing. Except Seamus wasn't seeing Fred on the floor, he was seeing George on the floor, and the sight was enough to knock him off his feet. He slid to the floor, his legs refusing to hold his weight.

A wetness dripping from his chin to his neck told him he was crying. After long moments, he crawled forwards towards George, resting a hand on his back.

George turned to look at him, glaring through red rimmed eyes.

"Get away from me," he snarled, shaking Seamus' hand off of him. "I don't want _you_. I want _Fred_!"

The words were still ringing in Seamus' ears hours later when Neville found him slumped against the steps up to the castle.

They were the first thing he heard when he slipped from restful sleep into a night filled with nightmares and tossing and turning and fear and screaming.

…

Alcohol helped.

Alcohol numbed.

It numbed the death of his best friend and it numbed the rejection from his soulmate and it numbed the horrors that Seamus couldn't unsee. It numbed the phantom pains of torture curses.

It pushed away the nightmares, letting Seamus fall into blackness for hours at a time, a welcome reprieve from… from everything.

Beer had been enough to start with. Until it wasn't. Then Seamus shifted onto harder substances, Vodka straight from the bottle, and then when that stopped working, Firewhiskey.

He secluded himself away, telling people that he was fine when he wasn't, telling his mum that he had a handle on his drinking when he didn't.

He tried, once, to contact George. He thought that perhaps the rejection was born from grief, that George hadn't actually meant what he said.

He didn't receive a reply.

But it was fine. Seamus was fine. He was alive, wasn't he? Why couldn't that be enough. Except then he almost wasn't alive because he fell down the steep steps of his flat and he almost died.

…

George had saved him. Seamus' name fading on his wrist had spurred more movement than he'd made since returning to the Burrow after the Battle of Hogwarts. Seamus learned about that after the fact, when he woke up in Saint Mungo's with a broken leg and a headache and a sympathetic Molly Weasley at his bedside.

She was soothing, fussing at his sheets even as she reprimanded him for putting himself in danger. She'd brought him fruit that he couldn't even look at without feeling nauseous, and had a kind smile that made Seamus want to cry.

"Why are you here?" he'd asked, when a lull in her chatter fell.

He didn't mean to be rude, but he didn't understand and his head was pounding and he just wanted a drink.

"This name on your wrist," Molly murmured, stroking a finger over the scripted writing. "This name makes you family. No matter the hardships of the aftermath of a war fought by children, this mark means that you will always be welcome with us."

Seamus gently pulled his arm away from her, and curled onto his side, turning away from her. He couldn't look at her earnest expression, couldn't deal with the sentiment that she offered him.

He didn't want to be welcome with them when he wasn't welcome with his soulmate. He didn't need even more people to fail.

…

"You're a mess, but that's okay, you know?"

Seamus stared at Neville for a long moment. "Is it?"

"Of course it is," Neville replied, taking a seat at Seamus' bedside. "Do you think the rest of us came out of the war without any demons. Harry has nightmares nightly, Susan has PTSD so bad that she's currently checked in on a ward three floors up. Theodore Nott killed himself three weeks ago because of the guilt he felt at not being able to save his soulmate's life."

Neville shook his head. "We're all damaged, mate. And it's the hardest thing you'll ever do, but it's okay to ask for help when you need it. I did, and I'm doing better. Harry's doing better. Susan is getting the help she needs. Theo didn't ask for help."

"When did you get so brave?" Seamus asked after moment. "I remember how timid you were, back in first year. And now… now you're the bravest person I know."

"I don't know that I'm brave," Neville denied quietly. "I just… I did what had to be done, because there was no one else there to do it. And now… now we've all got to pick up the pieces of that. Of what we had to do. It was never going to be easy, Shay."

Seamus swallowed hard. "What do I do?"

Neville smiled. "Admit to yourself that you're not fine. Everything else will come after that."

When Neville stood to leave, Seamus realised that he wasn't wearing his black cuff anymore. His eyes widened when he saw the name written across Neville's wrist.

Well, he supposed that explained how he knew that Harry had nightmares every night.

…

Rehab was… different. Different to what Seamus would have expected, had he ever thought about it enough to expect anything. He was shown to a room that would be his for the foreseeable future, and he immediately hated it. White walls, white bedding, plain laminate flooring.

"You can decorate it anyway you like," the man, Robert, told him as he watched Seamus looking around. "There's a schedule for you on the desk, and you can always call for myself or one of the other therapists if you need someone to talk to, to vent to, or if you're simply having a bad day."

Seamus nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Can I… send letters? I should… I should write to my mum. Let her know I'm okay."

Robert nodded. "You're not a prisoner, Seamus. Yes, you can't leave unless you check yourself out, but you're allowed contact with the outside world. I'll leave you to settle in and get comfortable, but the cafeteria is open for… six hours yet, and you can go and eat whenever you like if you don't feel like joining us in the dining room in a couple of hours."

Seamus nodded again. Robert left the room, and Seamus fell back against the pillows.

He couldn't do this.

He… didn't want to do this.

He hadn't had a drink for four days and three hours, and he needed it. In hospital, the drugs had helped him sleep without nightmares, but there were no drugs left in his system and he knew, he _knew_ as soon as he gave into the beckoning sandman, the nightmares would be there.

Showing him things he never wanted to see again. Showing him things he never should have seen in the first place.

He thought about checking himself out. How easy it would be to sign his name on the parchment that would prevent them from keeping him here. How easy it would be to find a shop, to buy copious amounts of alcohol and block out the oncoming images and sounds.

How easy it would be to just drink until he couldn't anymore. Until the blackness welcomed him home.

Seamus screwed up his fists and gritted his teeth and he didn't do any of those things. He could control this. He had to.

George might not want him, but Seamus wouldn't put him through the pain of having the name disappear from his wrist.

...

Seamus almost signed himself out fourteen times in the first week. Nightmares ruled his nights, leaving him trembling in the corner of his bed, holding a pillow to his chest as he sobbed for all that he had lost. With daylight came withdrawal, and the urge to just leave, to find the nearest shop or pub and drown himself until he could no longer be saved.

For the first two weeks, he had daily therapy sessions with Robert. Some days, Seamus didn't want to talk, and so Robert talked about himself, about his own issues with substance abuse and how hard his own recovery had been.

Seamus was jealous that Robert could talk about it so candidly, like he truly believed it was a thing of the past. Seamus was jealous that Robert had enough faith in himself to not slip and fall and drown.

Except… things did start getting easier. The words didn't stick in his throat as much, and Seamus told Robert all about Dean, and the things they'd gotten up to in their Hogwarts years. When everything was simpler. And he talked about the year of horror, about dealing with the Carrows and also dealing with his best friend probably being dead, and finding out George was his soulmate.

He talked about George. That was the hardest, because Robert seemed sure that he and George could still… be. Seamus knew that George didn't want him, and he didn't blame George for that.

"He still saved you, didn't he?"

That had been Robert's answer, and Seamus had clammed up because he _didn't want to talk about that._ Knowing that he'd put George through more than he'd already been through ate away at Seamus constantly.

As the third week of Seamus' stay began, Robert brought up the idea of group therapy. He'd gotten Seamus as far as the door before Seamus' courage stalled.

"I'm not so sure about this."

Robert had laid a hand on Seamus' shoulder. "Just trust me."

And Seamus did.

…

So many people in group therapy had bare wrists. Seamus couldn't help but stare at them, hardly listening to the various people speaking. The first session passed in a blur of bare wrists and mounting guilt.

These people had lost their _soulmates._

Robert invited Seamus to speak, but Seamus shook his head forcefully, feeling like he would vomit if he tried to speak. How could he make these people listen to him complain about losing his best friend when they'd lost their soulmates?

"It's not a competition, Seamus," Robert had scolded gently when Seamus explained his feelings of inadequacy and guilt at the next solo session. "Grief is grief and it's important, no matter the relationship to the person you've lost."

Seamus mulled those words over for a while, alternating between berating himself for being an asshole, and feeling guilty that he was here with people who'd lost _so much more._

And then a letter arrived.

And Seamus spiralled.

…

"How are you feeling?" Robert asked, when Seamus woke up in the bed, his head splitting as soon as he opened his eyes to see the light streaming in from the window, and with an overwhelming feeling of self hatred.

Seamus shrugged. "Like a fuck up."

"Was it worth it?"

"Not even close."

Robert nodded. Seamus couldn't help but want to punch him right in his understanding face. He didn't want understanding. He wanted… he wanted punishment, if only to take away the feeling of guilt. He wanted to be shouted at, to be hit, told he was a failure.

 _Something._

"Was it the letter?" Robert asked, nodding to the envelope on Seamus' desk.

Seamus nodded.

"Who's it off?"

"George."

"Ah. What did he say?"

Seamus shrugged. "I don't know. Haven't read it. Couldn't even open it before…"

"Before you snuck out and got drunk. You made a mistake, Seamus, because you're a human being and humans are not infallible. But now is the time to own the mistakes you make, rather than worry about the things that only _you_ believe yourself to be at fault for."

"I just… I don't think I want to know what George could possibly have to say to me. I don't know if I can handle seeing 'stay away for me' written down in ink. It's bad enough hearing it in my mind."

"Would it be better if I read it first? I can tell you good or bad and you can decide if you're ready to read it yourself."

Seamus hesitated for a minute then nodded. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see Robert open the letter, or read the parchment.

A couple of minutes later, and Robert nudged his leg. When Seamus opened his eyes, Robert had a small smile on his face and held the letter out.

"You want to read this."

…

 _Dear Seamus,_

 _I don't really know what I'm doing with this letter. This is even worse than the first letter I wrote you, because at least I hadn't…_

 _I'm sorry. Truly, I'm sorry._

 _I won't apologise for my grief. That's… I'll never stop grieving. But I was horrible to you and you didn't deserve that. I should have… I should never have said what I said, and I felt terrible about it a few days after, but by then…_

 _I know you wrote to me, not that I saw the letter until recently. I didn't… I wasn't functioning. I didn't know how to fix it and I didn't even have the energy to try._

 _You helped me though, in a twisted way. I'd never want you to be hurt, please don't think that I would, but when your name started fading from my wrist, it snapped me out of the funk I was in instantly. I couldn't, wouldn't, let you die too._

 _And since then… I'm trying. I'm eating and talking to my family, and I actually went in the shop a few days ago._

 _I know you're in rehab. I don't even know if they'll let you have this letter to be honest, but… I have to try._

 _I don't know if you'll give me a second chance… and if you do I'll probably need a third and a fourth and a fifth, because I still have a lot of bad days… but if you wanted to… maybe write me letters again. While you're in rehab._

 _I'd…_

 _I'll always reply, Seamus._

 _And I'll always be waiting. So, you know. You can… take your time. If you need to. Or don't. You could write me back immediately… or._

 _Well. I'll be waiting anyway._

 _Yours,_

 _George_

Seamus was laughing through his tears by the time he reached the end of the letter, because George was _awkward,_ and Seamus was utterly _charmed._

…

 _Dear George,_

 _You have no idea how many times I've tried to write this letter. I'm sorry it took so long. My therapist, Robert, says I have to be honest with you, because being honest is one of my new cornerstones. When I first got your letter, I reacted… badly._

 _That says more about me than it does about you._

 _I don't want you to feel guilty. Not for what you said to me, and not for anything that happened after. I was always going to spiral, but if you hadn't… I'd have taken you with me, and that's never something I would want to do._

 _I'm doing… better now. I'm not fixed, I don't know that I'll ever fully heal, but I'm okay with that. Now at least. I wasn't._

 _I'm… glad that you're doing better. And that you went to the shop again. That's good._

 _I don't really know what else to say. I'm flailing around for a subject, because I don't know what's okay and what isn't. I could tell you about therapy, but that would likely bore you to sleep, and… well. We covered the easy stuff… before._

 _If… If you answer, I'll reply faster next time. I promise._

 _Yours,_

 _Seamus._

…

 _Dear Seamus…_

… _._

 _Dear George…_

…

 _Dear Seamus…_

…

 _Dear George…_

…

They wrote back and forth, their letters getting more and more natural with each one, and soon, Seamus woke up in the morning and immediately looked to see if a new one had arrived. They discussed everything and nothing.

George was inventing again, slowly getting back into the business that he and his twin had been born for.

Seamus was learning new and better ways for dealing with his emotions and had been given cornerstones in which he could make himself stronger.

After four and a half months, Seamus felt ready to leave. He felt ready to return to his life and live it without drowning.

It had taken Seamus a while to trust that George meant what he said in the letters he sent. He was self aware enough to know that another rejection could easily be the thing that would send him careening over the edge of the cliff he'd only recently learned to balance on.

Still slightly insecure about… everything, Seamus wrote George with the date he'd be leaving rehab. He hadn't asked George to meet him, even though he craved it like nothing else, but George had replied immediately, promising to be waiting outside the door.

Seamus could only wait and see if that would happen.

…

George was waiting outside the facility for Seamus when he walked out of the front doors for the second time in five months. The difference between the two times couldn't be bigger, and Seamus felt a surge of pride that he wasn't even tempted to find the nearest shop.

George looked… better.

Better than the last time Seamus had seen him anyway. Which… probably wasn't that hard. Seamus smiled awkwardly, not really knowing how to greet him. The truth was, he wanted to reach out and hug him. He really did. He wanted to feel the warmth of having his soulmate's arm wrapped around him again, rather than the memory of their single hug.

George seemed to flail for a moment when he saw Seamus' discomfort, before he squared his shoulders and raised his arms for Seamus to stumble into.

"I'm sorry," George whispered against his hair. "I'm so sorry I made you feel like you couldn't hug me."

Seamus shook his head as well as he was able with his face nuzzled against George's neck. "No more apologies," he murmured. "What's done is done. It's time to start over."

When they parted, it was with them both smiling and George wrapped his slightly larger hand around Seamus'. "You've been complaining about the healthy food in your letters. Wanna go find the greasiest chippy in London?"

Seamus' smile widened. "Can we find one that serves chocolate milkshake?"

George scoffed. "As if that was in doubt!"

Chuckling, Seamus replied, "You were right. You are smoother in person."

"My awkwardness on parchment is a gift. You should appreciate it."

"I do. I'm charmed by your awkwardness."

...

If Seamus still slept with George's letters under his pillow… well, George didn't tease him about it.

* * *

 **Written for;**

 **Character Appreciation** \- 3. Half Blood  
 **Disney** \- C4. Write about someone lying that they've done something when they haven't.  
 **Book Club** \- Phillip: (plot point) breaking a bone, gift, control  
 **Showtime - 42**. Beer  
 **Amber's Attic - 8**. GeorgeSeamus  
 **Sophie's Shelf - V81**. Experiment  
 **Angel's Arcade - Sora** : brave, red, light, promise, truth  
 **Bex Biscuit Barrel - Flapjack** \- Seamus Finnegan, Insecure, Firewhiskey  
 **Hamilton Mania Main** \- Act 1, 15 - Wand : Extra - 1. Seamus Finnegan  
 **Hunger Games - R1**. Unexpected / Jealousy / Soulmate!AU / Hurt/Comfort / "I'm not so sure about this." / "Just trust me."


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